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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/30122493">all i wanted was a moment or two</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/jolie_unfiltrd/pseuds/jolie_unfiltrd'>jolie_unfiltrd</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Umbrella Academy (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Apocalypse, Because I wanted him to that's it the end, Consent Issues, F/M, Fiveya if You Squint, Mind Control, Number Six | Ben Hargreeves Lives, This happens when they are 16, Underage - Freeform</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-16 02:01:41</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,302</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/30122493</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/jolie_unfiltrd/pseuds/jolie_unfiltrd</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>In another universe, Allison has the super strength. Luther has the rumors.</p><p>---<br/> </p><p>  <i>title from switch, by will smith</i></p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Allison Hargreeves/Luther Hargreeves</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>20</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>all i wanted was a moment or two</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/rappaccini/gifts">rappaccini</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Gifted to <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/rappaccini/pseuds/rappaccini">@rappaccini</a>, who writes the most stellar fic ever and loves Alluther as much as I do. </p><p>I just got this idea in my head and couldn't shake it: what would it be like if Luther had the power to shape consciousness with his mind, and Allison the super strength? This focuses mostly on Luther's side of things. </p><p>(I don't <i>think</i> this needs a trigger warning for consent issues, as I think that's implied in the ~rumor powers~ that Luther has in this fic, but if anyone feels differently, please let me know!!)</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Allison is four years old when she lifts a car for the first time. They had been playing soccer in the garden when the ball had rolled underneath the prized Rolls Royce. Instead of crawling under it, like any other normal child, she simply tried to pick it up - and it worked.</p><p>She is not aware that this is strange, for all of her siblings are strange, and this is just another thing she can do, like learning all the ways to kill a person, or to run faster than anyone else, or to tuck her chubby little fingers into fists and learn to fight.</p><p>Luther is five when he reveals his power for the first time - and despite the horror, he's almost relieved. He'd thought he was normal, ordinary, like Vanya, and he couldn't think of anything he'd wanted to be less, not when being extraordinary earned you Father's favor and being ordinary brought you exile.</p><p>He didn't want to be exiled.</p><p>Although - he didn't really want to be extraordinary, either. </p><p>He just wanted to be loved.</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>It's about trust, really - something that the Hargreeves children have always struggled to hold onto. It seems like it should be tangible, should be prized, and instead they covet it and hoard the idea of it like tiny dragons, without ever letting another sibling in and trusting them.</p><p>It is a vulnerability and so it is a weakness and so it should not exist.</p><p>However.</p><p>However, the Hargreeves children are, in fact, children - whether they have tentacles swirling in their abdomen or super-strength or teleportation skills - and they band together tightly, in small groups and as a whole. They talk but do not admit that they want this - they pile on Vanya's bed like young puppies, pretending that they just fell asleep there by accident and not because they wanted the comfort that touch and warmth can provide - they fight and do not apologize, they spar and do not back down, they are a study in contradictions.</p><p>But they are all they have, and so, though it is shaky ground, they stand upon the trust in each other.</p><p>But this - this is something else.</p><p>When they are sixteen, Allison offers, and Luther hesitates to accept.</p><p>"What if I hurt you, somehow?"</p><p>"You won't. Besides, dummy, you need the practice."</p><p>It wasn't particularly fair for that to be One's nickname, as all of them had great capacity for intelligence - they could speak seven languages and read another twelve, they studied theoretical mathematics at a doctoral level, they knew every fighting stance from every country from Al - to Zab - but of them all, Luther often had the second-most difficult time stringing together his sentences (which was ironic, given his power) and so, <em>dummy</em> was assigned to him.</p><p>(Diego's stutter wasn't his fault, they would protest silently, fiercely in defense of their brother, and so his nick-name - given when they were seven - was Knife-Head).</p><p>"I just -"</p><p>Allison groans and lets down the car carefully on the gymnasium floor, wiping the grease from her hands before coming to sit before Luther, crossing her legs and tugging him down to her level.</p><p>"Make it small, something silly."</p><p>"I don't want to hurt you, Allison." He is earnest, concerned. </p><p>She only offers him a coy smile before tossing her hair over her shoulder. "You won't. I'm not even sure you can, really."</p><p>Luther wanted to roll his eyes at her arrogance, but his hands were shaking and he jumped when she slid her calloused palms against his. Luther inhales sharply, breathing in the scent of Allison that he'd known all his life - the rose-scented lotion she favors, the sweat, the musk, the way she smells like sandalwood, the way he'd gone to the garden and searched every plant until he could identify just what it was that was driving him insane, but even that had not been enough because it is sandalwood and rose and something just of her.</p><p>He exhales.</p><p><strong><em>I heard a rumor</em></strong><em>... </em>he startles at the glossy milk-white tint of her eyes, so sharply different than their usual depths, but continues... <strong><em>that you stood like a flamingo. </em></strong></p><p>Without hesitation, without reason, Allison calmly stands and picks her right foot up, bending forward at the waist before looking up at him, the fog lifting and the laughter starting, delighted.</p><p>"Oh, that was <em>strange</em>," she croons as she stretches back up to her full height. Luther could almost see up her skirt from this angle, but he keeps his gaze steadily on her face. "Do another one!"</p><p>He begins to relax, and the rumors start flying out of him, one after the other, more and more ridiculous.</p><p>
  <strong> <em>I heard a rumor that you spun in a circle.</em> </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong> <em>I heard a rumor that you could only speak Spanish.</em> </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong> <em>I heard a rumor that you danced like a ballerina.</em> </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong> <em>I heard a rumor that you -</em> </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong> <em>I heard a rumor that -</em> </strong>
</p><p>
  <em> <strong>I heard a rumor -</strong> </em>
</p><p>It is addicting, like this, seeing her eyes go glassy and her body spring to perform his wishes. It is something he has known from a young age: if he were power-hungry, if he were ambitious, this could get very dangerous, very quickly - the world is his oyster and he is its highest lord and the innermost thoughts of others are open to his whims. A small voice inside of him urges him to be careful, to be extra careful, because this is <em>Allison</em> - even as she is spinning in circles, nearly crying from laughing so hard and asking him for another, another.</p><p>The worlds slip from his mouth before he thinks about it, before he can resist this deep, dark impulse: <em><strong>I heard a rumor that you kissed me. </strong></em></p><p>Allison walks up to him slowly, deliberately, dark eyes fogged over with the mist of compulsion, a fogginess to her movements that implies that she is not the one holding the strings - and he protests, immediately realizing what he has done, the trust he has shattered, he says "no, Allison, please, no, I didn't mean-" </p><p>He freezes as she reaches both hands to cradle his face, as she raises up on her tiptoes to match her breath to his own, as she kisses him softly and then steps away. </p><p>(Later, he will wonder - how does intent carve out demands in the subconscious? A kiss is a kiss is a kiss - and is no less a kiss for being on the cheek, on the hand, on the temple, on the brow. He will experiment with frogs and mice and later, once he is more confident, strangers on the street, in the club, loitering around the nearby university, until he understands what he has not yet learned. </p><p>That of <em>course</em>, it matters, dummy.</p><p>That the words have no power without his wanting, his desire behind them, to see his will being carried out. </p><p>Reginald Hargreeves does not understand this, as he is a man steeped in precision and science and impossible things, and will chide Number One for the rest of his life about making his words <em>count</em>. </p><p>If anything, Luther's power teaches him that words don't really matter at all). </p><p>His hands are raised to cradle her elbows as she steps out of his grasp, as the murky white glaze clears from her eyes, as her perfect mouth rounds in a shocked circle. </p><p>There is no disgust there, and though Luther is shamed by the look on her face, he does not shatter, not like he would have if she had recoiled, if she had snatched her body from his hands and ran. </p><p>"What did you-" </p><p>"I'm so sorry, Allison, I didn't-" </p><p>She raises a shaking hand to her mouth, before pulling her fingertips away, looking them over as if expecting to see them stained in blood, in memory. </p><p>"I shouldn't have said that, I'm sorry," he repeats, as if saying it again will give it more weight, will take away the mistake, the growing pit in his stomach that makes him realize, for just a second, the constant agony of his younger brother and his tentacled creatures. He wishes, for a moment, to be devoured by one of those creatures, if only to never have to see that look on Allison's face again. </p><p>Betrayed. Dismayed. </p><p>Lost. </p><p>She steps back from him again, and again, not willing to meet his gaze - as if just realizing the depth of trust she had placed in Luther, handing over her subconscious and her desires and her actions as if it were nothing, as if she did not believe he could do her harm. </p><p>He justifies his actions, desperate to push away the gnawing wrongness that suffuses through every cell - that he didn't <em>hurt </em>her - but he did, he did, he really did. </p><p>She gave him her trust and he returned it in tatters. </p><p>So he lets her back up, does not move to follow, just keeps his hands outstretched, palms open in supplication to the gods he does not believe in. </p><p>It is not until her back is pressed to the other side of the gymnasium wall - nearly ten feet away - that she speaks. </p><p>"Why?" </p><p>His hands drop, his shoulders slump, but he keeps his eyes locked on her. "I shouldn't have." </p><p>"I know that, Luther," she says, voice unaccountably sharp for how much her hands tremble, "but why?" </p><p>"I -" he swallows heavily. Decides to be honest, to tell the truth even if it costs him, for it feels as though he has already lost. "I think I'm in love with you." </p><p>"You can't just -" Allison groans and leans against the wall, arms wrapped around her tight as a sob bubbles up in her throat. </p><p>"And I know -" he says, taking a step forward, "that doesn't take away how wrong that was, and how I shouldn't have asked that, and how I shouldn't have rumored you to - to kiss me," he stutters over the words, but continues on, "-but you asked why, and that is why." </p><p>She looks at him, eyes wide and tears swelling at the edges. </p><p>(He hasn't seen Allison cry since they were nine years old and she broke her leg when she misjudged her growing strength. The broken femur went straight through the skin and even then, she only allowed a single tear to track down her cheek). </p><p>"You could have just asked," she says, in the heavy space between them, as she pushes off the wall and moves to the door, turning back just before she departs, choking out a final confession: "I would have said yes." </p><p>It is this that jolts him from his stillness. </p><p>It is this that drives him to his knees. </p><p> </p><p>*** </p><p> </p><p>For anyone else, for any other pair of people in the world, this might have been enough to drive a wedge between them forever. </p><p>But here, in this grand, spectre'd home that rings hollow of affection - they only have each other, so the next morning, Allison still sits across from Luther at breakfast. In the afternoon, she still spars with him. And when they are sent on yet another mission to save yet another group of defenseless humans, she still watches his back.</p><p>He saves her the yogurt parfait before Klaus devours them all, he quietly prevents yet another argument between Klaus and Five in the gymnasium, he destroys every person who even thinks about coming close to her. </p><p>In this way, much of their life still looks the same. </p><p>(A fragile trust still spans the distance between them). </p><p>Yet there is an awareness of the way Luther fucked up, of what she confessed afterwards, in every move that they make. </p><p>Their ankles don't cross underneath the table. </p><p>There are no lingering touches as they help one another up from the hard linoleum floor. </p><p>There are no beaming smiles, covered in blood. </p><p>Allison considers asking him to rumor her to forget it ever happened, to move past this awfulness between them with minimal effort on her part - but she goes to the outskirts of the city and rotates train cars instead. He fucked up - absolutely. He apologized, he repented, he would crawl on his knees through broken glass if she told him to do it - but now, now, as much as she hates it, this next part is up to her. </p><p>Here, in this timeline, an apocalypse is still coming, and the world as they know it is already starting to shift off of its axis. </p><p>Things disappear. Moments fragment into two. Memory becomes a tricky, slippery beast.</p><p>Forgiveness, even more so. </p><p>It should take weeks, months even, for her to move past what he's done, to make her peace with that violation. </p><p>They don't have that sort of time. </p><p>The apocalypse arrives early, in this timeline, merely six days after the kiss that was rumored into existence before its time. </p><p>And when the meteors are raining down, and Five has gathered his family together - all of them, especially Vanya, tucked in close to his side - in the basement of that horrid old house, Allison holds onto Luther's hand tightly, staring into his light-filled eyes as they are torn back into time. </p><p>"I forgive you," she mouths, and watches as his eyebrows raise, as his mouth drops open for just a moment before snapping shut. </p><p>"Why?" he asks, the anguish in his eyes palpable; even as the winds pick up around them and the end of the world is upon them, even as their hands grasp their siblings and hold them close, his eyes are only for her. Filled with hope, filled with awe. </p><p>She smiles, all too aware that the world as they know it is crumbling. She has something else to say: "I love you, Luther." </p><p>The light in his eyes turns promethean - </p><p>and then, they are ripped away. </p><p> </p><p> </p>
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